Sagittarius Maximus vs. A Tale of Two Ohio Cities

Cincinnati, Ohio, I have some apologizing to do. For years, I have called you
"Cincinnappy" or "Cincinnasty" without checking to see if you have done anything
about your problems. Judging from my visits in the past few years, it looks like you
have; I'm more sorry than a bowl of Skyline Chili without the crackers. Cincinnati's
downtown and riverfront have come a long way. Between two new stadiums,
attractive, modern buildings and a total revamp of the frontage road on the Ohio,
Cinci looks fantastic. Its skyline, always impressive due to its valley location and
winding hills, makes the city look larger than it actually is. I recently got to check
out the Hyde Park neighborhood; a cute enclave with a bunch of boutique shops
and restaurants. The college-aged Clifton area is a nice (if not slightly grungy)
neighborhood also. Cincinnati's newer Underground Railroad Museum is intriguing.
Although efforts to redevelop the much-blighted Over-The-Rhine neighborhood
have been successful in ways, this is still a very scary part of town. Cinci, you've
come a long way, aesthetically. Now, about your political ideology...


Columbus, Ohio is something of an enigma. True, it is located squarely in the
center of a mostly conservative state. True, it is surrounded by corn and soybean
fields. True, only pancakes are more flat than Columbus' terrain. But Ohio's capital
city will astound you. Unlike other cities in its region, Columbus is very clean. A
visitor might get the impression that the city went through hell to get to this point,
and that it definitely intends on staying this way. Its Brewery District is remarkably
well-preserved and German Village makes one feel as though they've stepped back
into the Old World. The Short North is a thriving, energetic and entertaining halfway
point between Ohio State and Downtown. If nightlife and shopping don't impress
you, take a look at Columbus' almost-stunning variation in architecture. Its skyline
is a testimony to harmony between old and modern styles. Columbus' parks are
also noteworthy. The city is not only a cultural oasis in the middle of midwestern
farmland; it is a strong liberal base in Ohio. Columbus has been ranked as one of the
"most underrated gay-friendly cities in the U.S." If you've ever wondered why the
city is surprisingly stylish, now you know why.

Sagittarius Maximus vs. Select 'Upper Southern' Cities

Memphis, Tennessee sucks. Really. For starters, there is very little that is beautiful
about the flat city. The muddy Mississippi serves as a "just okay" viewpoint from its
aging skyline. Memphis' biggest attractions are Beale Street and Graceland; both of
which have already seen their heyday. While you can get some good music on Beale,
the street seems more filled with panhandlers and tourist shops than Blues artists.
However, Memphis' National Civil Rights Museum is spectacular. Memphis also
has a few nice areas; the area surrounding Overton Park has some very attractive
homes and unique shops and restaurants. Like many other segregated Southern
cities, "White Flight" took place here; African-Americans make up a majority of
Memphis' urban areas and its suburbs are very White. Memphis' crime rate has, for
multiple years, been one of the top ten worst in the U.S. The Pyramid venue, sitting
prominently next to the Mississippi, is mute testimony to Memphis' difficulties: once
a hotspot, the former largest arena in town now sits vacant.


Louisville, Kentucky is an excellent 2nd-place ribbon for me. That may not sound
as impressive as the first prize, but for me, Louisville is like placing runner-up on
"Price Is Right": you may not hit the jackpot, but you're still usually walking away
with a lot of perks. Twenty years ago, Louisville was in big trouble. Its crime rate
was unnerving, its population was in constant decline and the downtown was
showing serious signs of neglect. But slowly, with the help of funds driven towards
Kentucky's largest city and a pro-active mayor, Louisville started to shine again.
Kentucky Center for the Arts found its home. The unattractive industrial riverside
gave way to the impressive Waterfront Park. The crime-ridden Galleria urban
shopping mall became the bustling Fourth Street Live. The Highlands district, with
its beautiful homes, parks and eclectic shops, became recognized for its cultural
addition to the city. Gradually, the city's crime rate did a 180 and for years now,
it has been one of the safest metro areas in the country. Louisville's social views
have become more liberal, and its nightlife now rivals that of some larger cities.
Despite this progress, however, the River City is frustrating because it often
"can't see the forest for the trees." Traffic congestion is much less here than in
other comparable cities. Yet, Louisville continues to gripe and drag its feet on
crucial transportation issues, such as building more bridges to accommodate
commuting needs, restructuring a failed major highway intersection, and finally
completing the last piece of an outer-bypass connecting Kentucky and Indiana.
The city recently spent a ridiculous chunk of change to build a new downtown
arena--which doesn't have the capability to host major-league sports teams.
Louisville tries hard--but it has to become innovative to keep momentum. Still,
I love it. It is comfortable, quirky enough to be interesting, easy to navigate and
has friendly people. If that doesn't make second-place noble, I don't know what
does.

Lexington, Kentucky was a dream for me years ago, when I was 18 and wanting to escape Waddy. I saw it, through teenage eyes of stupidity, as something short of heaven. My father's reaction was unforgettable: "You want to move where?! That monument to poor urban planning?!" His assessment was correct then, and it continues to be accurate. If Louisville has a problem seeing the forest for the trees, Lexington's blinders keeps it from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. For starters, Lexington never wanted to be as large as it is. This notion is best reflected in its incredibly bizarre design and zoning; the urban growth boundaries place main arteries right next to quiet horse farms. The city grid's original spider web-esque design makes for a bad newcomers (and routine visitor's, for that matter) experience. Limestone Street becomes Nicholasville Road, Broadway becomes Harrodsburg Road and so on. That would be simple if it weren't for the fact that these streets don't intersect; they're just the same stretches of pavement with name changes. Yeah. I don't get it either. Still, most folks recognize New Circle Road as Lexington's most prominent planning screw up. Soon after its completion, the city began allowing businesses to build on its only bypass. Fast forward fifty years: the entire north end of Lexington has a bypass--which bypasses absolutely nothing. The part of the road that actually works as intended is heavily congested; especially on days when the Wildcats play. That, ladies and gentlemen, is Lexington's real reason for existence. Lexington is surprisingly socially progressive. It has a few nice shops, restaurants and pretty neighborhoods. However, if you aren't a UK fan, there is basically nothing here for you. Most die-hard Lexingtonians will still tell you that their city is much more special than its bigger, sinister neighbor of Louisville. I guess that sitting in traffic for an extended period of time allows ample time to look around and ponder such things.

Sagittarius Maximus vs. Select Florida Cities

Orlando, Florida was just another medium-sized citrus town before "you-know-
who-with-the-white-gloves" came along. Its status as a mecca for tourism has
plastered itself across a national and World-wide scale. The result is a city whose
visitors never really get to experience the actual city. Disney World, Universal and
Sea World all sit outside the city limits. Is there something to Orlando besides theme
parks? I'll put it this way: while I had no problem driving from nearby Tampa Bay to
hang out in the city proper, I wouldn't fly there to check out the "REAL" Orlando.
Still, it's a shame that so many people don't check out Winter Park with its beautiful
Spanish-style homes or Lake Lucerne or one of the many other lakes which makes
the mosquito the state bird of Florida.

Tampa, Florida is appealing if you like constant traffic congestion, a vacant down-
town and nothing but modern buildings. I find it to be Florida's answer to Seattle: it
really has no soul. But it does have some nice scenery. Take a walk along Bayshore
Blvd. or go on Davis Island and get some amazing views of the water. This is do-able
if you don't get run down by idiots in Mercedes on Howard Avenue. Tampa is wealthy,
but Tampa is also full of pretense. Society drooled when Donald Trump wanted to
build one of his towers there. I guess the place considers itself the Miami of the Gulf
Coast. Hardly. The nightlife is mainly restricted to less-than-desirable "hoochie-
mamas" in less-than-full clothing, and the ever-present Hooters-esque waitress look-
a-likes (both 20 and 50-somethings). Ybor City's preservation is commendable, but I
only partied twice there, due to shady characters. As far as diversity goes, it definitely
exists in Tampa. Still, the city's Gay Pride celebration was diverted to nearby St.
Petersburg because there were too many haters in Tampa. The downtown, while
sometimes architecturally interesting, goes dark at 6pm. Stay off of the Howard
Frankland Bridge between 3 and 7pm. Stay off of I-275 in the downtown area
between 12am and 11:59pm.

Clearwater, Florida could use some help. Although the city's beach remains a hot
destination for Spring Breakers, the blight that visitors see on their way to the white
sands is as attractive as the numerous billboards on its main, dangerous and heavily
commercialized artery, US 19. Clearwater has made good use of its location, proven
by the fantastic Sand Key and Coachman Parks. The Church of Scientology has
rescued much of downtown Clearwater, as the city is the worldwide conference
headquarters for the cult--err--church. While they have built some beautiful structures,
you just can't help but feel that the rest of the city kinda blows. Poor zoning laws and
awful 60s building material have conspired to make this city far less appealing than the
beach five miles west of it.

St. Petersburg, Florida is my favorite city in Florida. Sure, my former residency there
might make me a little biased. But I also worked in Clearwater, and lived close enough
to Tampa to be able to say that St. Pete has its neighboring cities beat hands down in
terms of culture, beautification and traffic. First of all, St. Petersburg has some terrific
neighborhoods including Old Northeast, Mirror Lake, the Jungle and Snell Isle. Out
of the three largest Bay cities, St. Pete does the best job of preserving its beautiful
historic structures. Not only that, but brick-paved streets are common in many
neighborhoods and a few fabulous 1910s-era resorts have avoided the wrecking ball.
Scenic parks such as North Shore, Vinoy and the cozy Pass-A-Grille are part of St.
Pete's beauty. The traffic here is more manageable due to the city's grid structure.
More than anything, St. Pete has an abundance of excellent museums (the Salvador
Dali and Holocaust, to name a couple) theaters, galleries and unique restaurants,
which suggest to the visitor that the Gulf beaches shouldn't be the only plan on the
itinerary.

Sarasota, Florida is filthy rich. It begins a string of Gulf Coast cities that learned
from the epic zoning mistakes of nearby Tampa Bay and decided that the place
needed to stay as originally intended: a retreat for the old--not a playground for the
young. Still, its population of well-to-do retirees has benefited Sarasota culturally,
providing some very attractive galleries, new theaters and a better-than-it-deserves
massive library. But while Sarasota and the cities of Fort Myers and Naples are very
clean and very new-looking, they are also very dull and very Republican. My favorite
thing about Sarasota is actually its neighboring beach, Siesta Key.

Sagittarius Maximus vs. Select Deep South Cities

Houston, Texas gets a cowboy hat-sized "YUCK" from me. I really wish
that my experience with a Texas city contained Austin or Dallas or someplace
a little more interesting. For starters, you can SEE (yes, folks--not just breathe,
but visualize) Houston's smog from about ten miles. And while the skyline is
expansive and fairly impressive due to being one of the U.S.' tallest, the city is
sprawling and leaves a lot to be desired. I was astounded, when walking
downtown on a weekday, to see very few passers-by. The downtown indeed
felt abandoned, even though that isn't the case. I did enjoy the Montrose
neighborhood when visiting; it was one of Houston's few culturally-interesting
areas that I encountered.


Montgomery, Alabama is one of few cities which actually scares me. I do
think that it isn't a coincidence that most office buildings in Montgomery are
painted white. Both visiting and passing through this first Confederate capital
has always given me the impression that although it has been over 40 years
since the traumatic 1960s explosions of racial unrest, that tensions still simmer
just below the surface here. I have twice been in downtown Montgomery on
Saturday nights, and instead of seeing people out enjoying themselves, all I saw
were policemen. Equally odd was the fact that it was difficult to locate a coffee
shop. One nice thing about Alabama's capital is the historic, laid-back Clover-
dale neighborhood. Still, to experience Montgomery, passing through on I-65
is sufficient.

Atlanta, Georgia is a conundrum of a city. What can one say about a fast-
paced cosmopolitan center in the laid-back South whose metropolitan area
extends all the way to Alabama?! I like Atlanta. There are times when I wish
I would have stopped there in my early twenties, instead of continuing down I-
75 to Tampa Bay. I think that Atlanta realized its potential years ago, and
when other Southern cities chose to dwell not-so-contentedly in the past, it
moved on. The result is a fabulous skyline that goes on for days, countless
nightlife opportunities, and a rich history on display. The Virginia Highlands,
Druid Hills and Little Five districts impress with their culture and beautiful
architecture. Safely democratic, the city is a fabulous place for minorities to
thrive, claiming its status as the most thriving U.S. city if you're African-
American and one of the top ten most fabulous for "the gays" to feel right at
home.

Sagittarius Maximus vs. Select Mormon-Belt Cities

Spokane, Washington has been dealing with an image problem
for quite some time now. It is aware that it is a sizable city with an
abundance of available buildings and land. Yet there isn't much about
the city that draws people. Its Riverfront Park, with the gushing falls,
is a spectacular sight. The city's people aren't exactly brimming with
hospitality towards diverse visitors; when you are in proximity to
Spokane, you've departed the liberal, anything-goes West Coast and
prepare to enter a libertarian/semi-overtly religious area. The down-
town could use some help.

Salt Lake City, Utah is barely eligible for me to review, as I have
not spent a great amount of time there. I couldn't leave it out, though:
this city is not what you think it is. True--over half of the population is
Mormon, but Salt Lake somehow manages (very surprisingly) to be gay
-friendly and, dare I say--edgy?

Albuquerque, New Mexico was on the short list for me when I moved
to the West in 2005. While I cannot comment much here, I find its location
and proximity to nature very appealing. Its neighborhoods are more
'querque' than what you might expect, although I stop short in calling this
place 'progressive'. Much of Albuquerque's scene is seemingly underground,
and a visitor gets the impression that the city possesses some potential, but
doesn't quite know what to do with it. The University district is fantastic.

Sagittarius Maximus vs. Select West Coast Cities

Portland, Oregon is not without problems. Its homeless problem is ridiculous.
Its job market can be termed 'frightening' at best. But five years after I first laid
eyes on it, with me comfortably situated in a city 2500 miles away, I can still say
that it is my favorite city in the United States. Portland challenges almost any
conception that you ever had about a metro area of 2 million, with its relaxed
all-you'd-ever-need neighborhoods and cozy yet thriving downtown. The city is
living proof that nature and commercialism can co-exist. The fact that so many of
its citizens are devoted to protecting its natural beauty makes newcomers
enthusiastic about doing the same. The city also does its best to protect its "Mom
and Pop" businesses and possesses a sometimes less-than-subtle anti-capitalist
feel. Portland isn't just liberal; it is progressiveness at its best. George Bush Sr.
didn't call this town "Little Beirut" for nothin'. Portlanders are generally laid-back
(especially with a micro-brew and something organic), but chop down a tree and
see what happens. Expand a war and see what you get. Hell, try selling fur coats
on the streets...it's not pretty. Although protesting CAN go overboard, it is some-
what responsible for Portland's appeal: people give two shits. The crime rate is
incredibly low for a city of its size. Oregon's largest city was at one time named
the cleanest big city in America for years in a row. Its transportation system
(including light-rail) is a model for other cities. True: taxes are high here. But you
breathe clean air. You're comfortable biking or walking to work because that's
normal. And you are 45 minutes from an 11,000-foot mountain, an hour and
fifteen minutes from the ocean and surrounded by forests and a high desert.
Don't allow the rain to dampen your enthusiasm. (Sorry, I've been wanting to
use that for a while now.)

Seattle, Washington has always prompted the following comment from me
upon leaving it: "I can't pinpoint it, but there is just something about that city that
I don't like." Seattle tends to always impress. It is surprisingly clean for a city of its
size. The downtown area is thriving, and its attractions are numerous. Unfortunately,
I just don't think that Seattle has a soul. From the Space Needle, you stare out into
its buildings, mountains and the Sound. You get a sense of awe from the mountains,
a calming feeling from the waters, but the buildings send out one vibe only for me:
money. Seattle has a lot of that--and I think what bugs me about the place is that it
doesn't mind flaunting the wealth.

San Francisco, California's name alone sends out chills. Say "San Francisco" to
a Southern Baptist and wait for the reaction. Mention it to any Republican, for that
matter. That's what makes San Francisco fantastic. What comes out of the city has
been messing with the public's head for years...and San Franciscans thrive on that.
As a result, the city thrives. Some call it 'reckless'. I use the term 'bold'. Maybe they
feel emboldened because they can climb those damned hills--excuse me--mountains
without collapsing left and right. You want to dwell on the 60s? Come. Want to be All
Things Gay? We'll save a spot for you in the parade. If you smoke funny things, dress
oddly or are just plain freakish, San Francisco is for you. I love visiting, but could never
live there. The row houses, narrow streets and SF's situation on a tiny peninsula leave
little room for breathing and much room for claustrophobia. But it sure is breathtaking.

Los Angeles, California is, of course, huge. When I first visited L.A., my fellow
Portlanders told me that I would hate it. (Of course, they did: Los Angeles is the
antithesis of Portland!) I actually liked the City of Angels. True, the sprawl is mind-
numbing. But there is so much to do in L.A., and such an awesome mix of diverse
people. However, the gross exaggeration of wealth is a bit much. Ostentatious cars
and dwellings start to look gaudy after a while. Head over to Silver Lake if that
scenery gets old. It is my favorite neighborhood in the city--quirky with some great
architecture and a rich history. Use the back roads to get there, and avoid I-5 at all
costs. Yet another city that I would not want to live in: everything that people say
about the congestion is correct and then some.

"...from Phoenix, Arizona all the way to Tacoma..."

"You really like skylines, don't you?", my better half remarked, as we
crossed the Ohio River into the nighttime display of Kentucky's most
populous city.

There is something almost magical about a skyline that makes you
stare at it. Perhaps some onlookers are drawn to the power that so
many tall buildings represent. Others are intrigued by the possibilities
that exist among the massive structures. Who is there? What makes it
thrive? Historians may view skylines and ponder how a city can rise
from very humble origins or great catastrophe to popularity, strength
and greatness. Some just simply like the aesthetics.

At one point or another in my short twenty-eight years, I have
marveled at cities and their skylines for all of those reasons.

I drove to downtown Louisville tonight. And according to the usually-
reliable Google Maps, from my starting location in the East End, I went
no fewer than 13.6 miles out of my way. Most folks don't understand
why anyone would do that. And while I already stop at the gas pumps
enough, I have to see my city's skyline from time to time; to check on
it, analyze, criticize or worship it. When you like skylines and you work
in the burbs, you just have to do it.

While I do not have to critique cities, that's why I'm on here tonight. I
have always wanted to do this in public, even though I am living proof
of the notion that many people feel so strongly about their locations that
fights can break out. I'll put down my boxing gloves if you will.

I will make every possible effort to consider all aspects of a city when
rendering judgment, and candid remarks are assured. It is not rational
or fair of me to critique cities in which I have spent limited or zero
amount of time. Additionally, criticizing a city which I have only passed
through would be arrogant. For example, I refuse to review Huntington,
West Virginia, as a dump (although anyone who has driven along I-64 can
easily see...err...never mind.)

Because the normal length of a blog ended about two paragraphs ago, I
have decided to break up this entry a bit. With the way I like to ramble
and my use of Google Maps, it is one courtesy that I can extend to you,
the reader.

That is, if anyone is bored enough to persevere. On with part one...

Blending.

The love of my life shares my father and brother's birthdays
with us on this day. Chuck has 'broken bread' with the family
many times before. Yet, it is just one more bonding experience
for the people that have loved and accepted me for twenty-eight
and a half years...and the man who I love and can visualize in
my life for no less than twenty-eight and a half years more.

Like the "Dirty Tease" t-shirt storefront said, "It's a warm,
fuzzy feeling. Just like eating a teddy bear."

We watched two very mushy movies yesterday: "The Family Stone"
and "Latter Days". Chuck is not a chick-flick watcher, while they
are probably the one thing that keeps me from insanity. Chuck is
not into my ridiculously out-of-style elevator-esque music habits.
He listens to all things current; the harder, the better. Chuck
could tell you what is going on in most every primetime show. I
still do not even own a TV; preferring to keep with my "Golden
Girls", "Will & Grace", or the occasional "Noah's Arc" or SNL
spoof, all from the comfort of my laptop. He use to be a skater
boy. I use to be a Jesus Freak. What a long time ago THAT was.

But we both got teary-eyed during those sappy movies. We talked
about their plots and even how they relate to our lives. We talk
about our walks in the World, where our lives are going and where
our hopes and dreams lie. And if that is too deep, we talk about
food.

And from that subject alone, we'll probably never quit talking.

It has been years, folks. Years of one-night-stands, flings and
behaviors that might make the harlots in the red-light district
of Amsterdam raise an eyebrow. I never would have thought that it
would take coming back to Kentucky to find him; coming back home--
to find a home in someone's arms.

But here I am. Here we are. And I can't help but smile.

Immunity to Change

On a Friday when I should be dressed down, I am actually dressed
up to attend a visitation after work. Damned death-related
activities keeping me from wearing my Levi's. Ugh.

Ms. Nancy died peacefully in a nursing home at ninety-one. Except
for the nursing home part, we should all be so lucky.

Like so many others from tiny towns like Waddy, she wont end up
in any history books. But she was something of a revered scholar
in our hometown. Ms. Nancy wasn't like a lot of the other little
old mild-mannered ladies who contributed to bake sales and made
blankets and whatnot. She was an opinionated, worldly educator,
who taught at the local high school for well over thirty years--
and spent many of those years traveling just about everywhere.

The significance of her passing, however, has less to do with who
she was, and more to do with what it means for the community. For
Ms. Nancy was the last of the 'old guard'--a group of elderly
Waddy ladies devoted to their God, their community and those less-
fortunate. Their quiet influence in the town was remarkable; their
impressions on its history, undeniable. They kept Waddy beautiful.

For years, I made the assertion that Waddy, with its population
well under 500 people, would never really change. But now, after
taking off the 'rose-colored glasses', I see that my small town
is no different than any other place of any other size. Slowly but
surely, Waddy is becoming a bedroom community. Its "downtown" has
been eroding for years. The only bank in town left years ago. One
of the groceries closed. The other grocery took out its gas pumps.
The houses in town which were occupied and kept tidy for over forty
years by widows and/or couples now belong to younger unknowns who
have less time to appreciate their wooden relics. A good many of
those houses are abandoned; their fates left to time or a grim real
estate market. And although the town's bedrock of four churches
still remain, their attendance is less-than-thriving. If it weren't
for the interstate and Waddy's relative proximity to Kentucky's
major economic centers, the downturn would have been more drastic.
No, Virginia, Waddy is not immune to change.

When the townspeople say their final goodbyes to Ms. Nancy today
or tomorrow, they also symbolically resign themselves to the fact
that Waddy is no longer what it use to be; it held itself to its
early 1900s heyday for as long as it could. Waddy's natives will,
of course, age. A few will stay. But the nostalgia for many will
be too great. It will make no sense to some that doors need to be
locked now; that the drivers of nine out of ten cars passing by
aren't familiar.

As for my family, we are content to sit on the side porch,
remembering all of it, holding on to the moments and delaying any
real thoughts toward the not-always-sunny-looking future.

I am lucky that I grew up where I did. I am also lucky to have
gotten out.

It hurts less that way.